


it was all going accordingly to plan

by figure8



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Character, Coming Out, F/M, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sexual Identity, Sexuality Crisis, i am deeply sorry, this is Definitely Not A Romance, this is so fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 03:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2094477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Steve goes on a run one morning and comes back a changed man.</i>
</p><p>Alternatively titled "Steve Rogers' Big Gay Freak-out" and "Bucky Barnes Has Made Terrible Life Choices".</p>
            </blockquote>





	it was all going accordingly to plan

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i'd just like to warn everyone: this is pretty much a fic about bucky barnes. okay, no, let's be fair. this is a fic about bucky barnes and steve rogers being the Bestest of Best Bros, because i'm apparently incapable of writing anything that isn't SUPER SELF INDULGENT. sue me.  
> the samsteve is background but it's there and it's _important_. it's just that the focus of the story isn't romance, it's identity. i'm probably going to write this from sam's pov as well anyway because i am TRASH. but yeah.
> 
> this is SO RIDICULOUS and i can't believe people have read that and LET ME POST IT. i need new friends.  
> a gigantic thank you to kasey who is the best enabler/beta/literary partner in crime i've ever had. i wouldn't get anything done without her, trust me.
> 
> trigger warning for short description of a panic attack. DO I NEED TO TAG FOR UNHEALTHY USE OF ITALICS. IT REALLY FEELS LIKE I DO. title from mika's billy brown because i am a FUCKING JOKE

Steve goes on a run one morning and comes back a changed man. It’s absolutely ridiculous and immensely entertaining. Bucky guesses he _could_ feel guilty about how funny he finds the whole thing, but hey, Steve is the one who decided waking him up at 5:50 AM to witness his Big Gay Freak-out was a good idea. He brought this upon himself.

It goes approximately like this: Steve makes it back to their dorm room ten minutes earlier than the usual, collapses unceremoniously on Bucky’s bed and almost crushes him, and announces “I think I’m gay” to the ceiling. Bucky tries to smother him with his pillow, insults everyone and their mother, complains about the general lack of coffee and goes back to sleep. It’s a very productive conversation.

Later during the day they cross paths with Peggy Carter and she’s apparently in a good mood, because she smiles at both of them. Steve’s entire face turns red. He then turns to stare at Bucky intently for what feels like three hours but is probably only thirty seconds and whispers, “False alarm, I still like girls. I like girls _very much_.” Bucky elbows him in the ribs, _hard._

They forget about Steve’s sexual epiphany for a while because Nat comes to visit—read _crash on Bucky’s bed and complain about the weather_ —and then suddenly there’s vodka and it’s Friday night and they’re being Typical College Students. At three in the morning, they’re pressed together in a booth at Denny’s and Steve is swallowing his weight in pancakes while Bucky and Nat are busy making-out like the teenagers they swear they aren’t when Steve makes a small hurt noise at the back of his throat and then proceeds to loudly choke on a bite.

“It’s him!” he croaks after Bucky’s had to awkwardly pat him on the back for a whole two minutes. He takes a sip of water and coughs four times before managing to get another word out. “It’s _the guy_ ,” he whispers secretively to Bucky.

Nat, of course, asks out loud, “What guy?” Bucky is so proud.

“Steve’s super secret gay crush,” he provides helpfully. Nat doesn’t look drunk at all—even if she probably had more vodka than the two of them combined—which means she’s going to remember everything in the morning.

“It’s not a _crush_ ,” Steve protests, before hiding his face in his hands. “He’s so hot and I am _so sad_ ,” he whines, mortified.

Nat isn’t moved in the slightest. “I still don’t know what he looks like, Rogers.”

“He’s the only one ordering, you can’t miss him,” Steve says from behind his hands. Bucky and Nat both turn around.

The guy is tall, well built, probably their age. Bucky can’t really see anything else because he’s got his back turned to them, but at least he looks like he has a decent fashion sense. Shut up, these things are important and Bucky is drunk. Nat plasters herself to his back in order to get a better view, her chin digging into his shoulder. Her hair is tickling his jaw, making him giggle, and Steve sinks even lower into the leather of the bench. “Stop _staring_ , oh my _god_.” Then the guy leaves the counter, his order in a bag, and okay. Okay, Bucky gets it. In an absolutely objective, Very Heterosexual sort of way, okay? Nat apparently gets it too, because she whistles and punches Steve in the arm.

“Wow, Rogers. You sure know how to pick them.”

Saturday morning—afternoon? Is it still the afternoon if you wake up at noon but treat it like a morning?—goes exactly as Bucky predicted. Nat doesn’t have a hangover, Steve doesn’t have a hangover but refuses to get out of bed anyway, and Bucky has a _terrible_ hangover and wants to die. Nat yells “His name is Sam!” from the kitchen, Steve replies “I already knew, are you _hacking into the school’s database AGAIN_ ” and Bucky kindly asks everyone to _shut the fuck up, I’m going to slash your fucking throats open_. Absolutely no one listens to him. Nat comes to sit on top of him and sings the _Internationale_ in a bad Russian accent. Bucky has made _terrible_ life choices.

“I think we should go to a gay club,” Steve blurts out on a Thursday evening. Bucky just came back from class and his back is _killing_ him, why are textbooks so goddamn _heavy_ when their dorm is on the _other side of campus_ , Bucky hates _everything_.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“Uh?” Steve asks, not taking his eyes off his computer screen. “Oh, yeah, hi. Come and have a look, I don’t know where to start. Jesus _Christ_ , no, we’re definitely _not_ going there.”

Bucky sits next to him and looks at the screen, and then he looks at Steve and suddenly the whole situation is really not that funny, because his best friend actually looks tired and terrified. “Hey,” Bucky says, gently taking the laptop from Steve’s hands, “are you okay?”

Steve puts his head between his knees and takes a deep breath and Bucky really doesn’t know what to do, so he settles for awkwardly patting him on the shoulder. “Stevie,” he sighs, “you don’t have to freak out on your own.” Steve shivers, unconsciously moving closer to him.

“I know,” he says, voice a little muffled by his hands. “I didn’t realize I was freaking out. I thought it was okay.”

“It _is_. Stevie, it’s okay. Hey, I’m sorry if I laughed.”

“You didn’t—it’s not you. It’s no one, really, I just—I realized what it really meant, that’s all. And I’m okay with it, I like guys, it’s not a big deal, I just wanted to do _something_ about it and suddenly there’s all this _stuff_ and the internet is _crazy_ and I have no idea how to go about this and I just feel like I missed three flights in a row and it’s so overwhelming—”

“Steve, breathe.”

Steve makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat instead. Bucky drops to the floor in front of him, puts both hands on his best friend’s knees. “Stevie, breathe with me. One, two. One, two. That’s it, that’s it. You’re doing really well. Breathe.”

 

It goes on for a little while, Bucky counting breaths and Steve taking them, just like when they were kids and Steve’s lungs really didn’t want to do their job. Steve definitely isn’t ninety pounds soaking wet anymore, but the vicious fear of losing him never really left Bucky, it’s still there, a heavy weight at the pit of his stomach. He got so used to living with it he forgot.

Slowly, Steve’s breathing evens out. Bucky remains kneeling on the floor, but Steve slides from the bed and joins him. “Thanks,” he says, his voice a little raspy.

Bucky grins. “You’re welcome, buddy.” They don’t say anything else for a few minutes. Bucky grabs the laptop from where he left it on the mattress, opens it to find a Google search about gay clubs in the area. “Hey,” he starts when he’s sure Steve has completely calmed down. “You know, we _could_ go to one of these clubs.”

“Buck, it’s the middle of the week.”

“I literally do not give a shit,” Bucky says, dead serious. “I’m in if you are. I’ll sleep tomorrow during that incredibly boring Chemistry class.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Or we could—not go,” Bucky adds hastily. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything. It’s just—if you wanted. To see what it’s like. I’d come with you.”

Steve’s genuinely surprised smile is the best thing Bucky’s seen all week, but it’s also kind of sad. Steve must have felt so _alone_ , he realizes.

They don’t go to any of the clubs that night because Steve is actually a responsible student and they both have to be up at six the next morning, but they do pick one. It looks… globally normal. Bucky doesn’t know what he expected. Then again, these are only pictures on a website. They have yet to see the real thing.

 

The club’s name is _The Jungle_ , and it still looks _globally normal_ in real life. Nat leaves them as soon as they’ve made it inside, shouting “I’m going to find a girl to dance with, play his boyfriend if you have to!” in Bucky’s ear. Steve is blushing. As in, Steve is _blushing continuously_. He turned bright red the moment they stepped out of their dorm room and it’s been going on since then. Bucky has seen Steve in a swimsuit, multiple times. He blushes _everywhere_. He probably looks like a lobster right now.

“Why are you _laughing_ ,” his best friend grits between clenched teeth. “Buck, _stop_!”

Bucky can’t stop. His entire body is shaking in silent laughter, and he has to bite the inside of his mouth in order to _keep it_ silent. “I’m so—sorry,” he chokes. “I’m gonna get us drinks, okay?”

He comes back with two martinis to find Steve looking vividly uncomfortable talking with some guy. He has to pull the whole _hey babe_ thing and slide a possessive arm around Steve’s waist and everything. It’s _glorious_. Steve _hates_ him.

Nat finds them an hour and a half later, her hair and makeup still perfect even if she hasn’t left the dance floor for a second. Bucky _knows_ what she looks like when she lets go, _knows_ it’s possible—and god, this is not the place to be thinking about this—but he’s still so goddamn impressed. He remembers spending freshman year thinking she was a robot.

“How’s it goin’, gentlemen?”

“Great,” Bucky says.

“I need to get drunk,” Steve says simultaneously.

Nat just nods, “I’m on it!” and comes back with shots. _Of course._ Let it be know for the record that Bucky thinks it’s a _terrible_ idea. Steve was a lightweight at fifteen when he was still skinny and they tried drinking something other than beer for the first time, and Steve is still a lightweight now. Alcohol turns him into a very clingy cuddle monster. A monster _Bucky_ has to deal with every time because apparently drunk!Steve still has enough sense of self-preservation to avoid hugging Nat for more than ten seconds.

“On your six,” Steve stage-whispers to Bucky after collapsing on the chair next to him. He lost his shirt somewhere along the way, but he also stopped blushing around that time too, so it’s okay.

“The blond guy?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “He’s hot. I kind of wanna suck his dick.”

Bucky chokes on his Appletini. “ _Rogers_ , oh my god.” Then, smiling: “You want to go and talk to him?”

“Nah,” Steve replies easily, yawning. “M’not sure I’m ready for that yet. But I wanna, you know? It’s nice to know I wanna.”

This is the most productive night they’ve had all year, Bucky thinks hazily as the three of them walk back to campus.

 

//

 

“Have you talked to Sam yet?” Natasha asks in lieu of greeting them, closing the door behind her with a swift movement of her heel.

“The only thing he’s said to him so far is ‘on your left’,” Bucky tells her when Steve refuses to answer. “Hey, how did you get in? I don’t remember giving you a key,” he frowns.

Nat arcs an eyebrow. “Honey. You really think I need a key, wow. That’s cute.”

Steve rolls his eyes at them. “We’ve had a conversation about our majors, I’ll have you know.”

Nat throws herself on Bucky’s bed, nudges his thigh with her foot in order to get him to scoot over. “That’s a _super_ sexy topic, Steve. I’m impressed.”

“He’s the one who asked, it’s not my fault! He does Psychology, wants to work with war veterans. It’s really cool.”

Bucky pretends he’s throwing up. “Ugh, take your dreamy eyes away from me. That was _really gay_ , Steve.”

“I’m sorry, oh Great Heterosexual. Do you—want to watch football and drink beers and bask in our manliness? I’ll even call you dude. We can have our very own bro moment. Broment?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky laughs. It’s so easy, he thinks. He’s glad it’s easy. He’s glad Steve can joke about it, effortlessly, the way he’d do with any other issue. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised—Steve was always like this. When they were kids and his body kept failing him, he used his sharp wit to keep his head above water all the time.

 

//

 

The guy is gorgeous, rich, absolutely unbearable, and Bucky hates him. Like, he’s _rarely_ hated someone that much. Nat doesn’t hate him because Nat doesn’t hate people, she just doesn’t give a shit—but if she _did_ , she’d hate him too. Bucky _knows_ it.

“Tell me this is a joke,” he begs. Nat doesn’t even look up. She’s painting her nails with something that is probably the blood of her enemies. It’s way too red to be nail polish. Bucky can’t believe he’s allowing himself to sleep next to this woman, all vulnerable and naked and. You know. Asleep.  

On his right, Rich Gorgeous Asshole is telling Steve about That One Time He Went On A Humanitarian Mission In Afghanistan. Bucky would gladly play the boyfriend again and rescue his best friend, but 1) he was kissing Nat earlier and 2) Steve doesn’t actually look like he wants to be rescued.

“I think Steve has been replaced by a pod-person,” he tells Nat.

“James, your degree of investment in Steve’s love life is becoming creepy.”

Bucky gapes at her. “You tried to set him up with girls for an entire year! You weren’t even _friends_!”

“He kept showing up on our dates. He was _always_ in your room. I was trying to save my sex life.”

Bucky doesn’t have the time to be scandalized, because Steve and Extremely Infuriating Douchebag are now making out, and there are things he _never_ wanted to know about his best friend. They’re in a _public place_. People are _staring_. Fortunately, That Jerk In A Thousand Dollar Suit seems to realize that as well, because he breaks the kiss and grabs Steve by the wrist, and they both all but run to the exit. There is a _sock on the doorknob_ when Bucky walks back to their dorm. He has to spend the night at Natasha’s, and her asshole roommate Clint spends the entire evening laughing at him.

“That guy was a tool,” he tells Steve the next day, and immediately regrets it because that was probably Steve’s first gay hook-up, wow, Bucky is an insensitive _jerk_.

Steve doesn’t seem bothered, though. “Who, Tony? Yeah, he’s kind of an asshole.”

“Then why—”

“It doesn’t—matter? I’m not exactly interested in his outstanding personality, Buck.”

Oh.

“He gives one _hell_ of a blowjob,” Steve smirks. Bucky runs to the bathroom and locks himself inside, yelling _I don’t want to fucking know!_

 

//

 

Sam Wilson is now a constant part of their life and Bucky isn’t jealous. He’s _not_ , shut up. Jealousy is petty and childish and counterproductive and Bucky is an adult. If he’s old enough to drink, vote, and drive his car off a cliff, he’s old enough not to make faces at his best friend’s boyfriend. You know, in theory. The thing is, Sam is nice. Sam is smart. Sam is good looking and funny. It only took Sam _two minutes_ to win Natasha over. Sam likes _birds_ and long walks in the park and wants to be a freaking social worker.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve says for the eleventh time in an hour.

“You’re dating. He’s your boyfriend.”

Steve sighs. He’s been working on an ambitious project for the last two weeks, a life-sized painting of a dancing monkey draped in the American flag. Steve says it represents today’s politics. All Bucky knows is there’s paint all over the place _all the time_. “Pretty sure he’s supposed to be aware of the whole dating thing for it to count, Buck.”

“Are you kidding me? The guy is all—all _smooth_ and flirty with you and you’re not—argh. Have you kissed yet? Tell me you have _kissed_. I thought the whole point of the gay thing was avoiding unnecessary drama.”

“That is _not_ the point and you know it, stop being a jerk. The _gay thing_ ,” Steve scoffs, “just means he has a dick and I do too. That’s it. It doesn’t change the fact I really like Sam and I’m trying to take this slow.”

“Are you gonna tell your mom?” Bucky asks suddenly.

“That I’m thinking of buying Sam dinner and winning him over with flowers and my renowned sense of humor?”

“Shut _up_. No, that—that you’re into guys.”

“And girls,” Steve insists. “I’m still very much into girls.”

“Right now,” Bucky smirks, “you’re very much into Sam Wilson.”

“I don’t know.” He puts his paintbrush down, runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe? If things get serious. I don’t know.”

“With Sam?”

“With anyone, Buck.” Steve smiles, a little bittersweet. Bucky doesn’t like it. But before he can even consider doing anything about it, there’s a knock on their door.

“Hey,” Sam smiles when Bucky lets him in, “how are you, man?”

“I’m good,” Bucky replies, a little dumbstruck. “What are you doing here?”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve hisses, “that was rude.”

Sam chuckles, “It’s okay.” Bucky feels _terrible_. Why is this guy so _nice_.

“I’m going to—go?” he says awkwardly. “See Nat. Or something.”

“Nat has that dance class,” Steve frowns.

“Actually,” Sam says, “I’m here for both of you? Me and some of the guys from my dorm are going to the game tonight, figured I would ask if you two want to tag along?”

Steve bites his bottom lip, nods absent-mindedly. “Yeah, sure.” Bucky knows that tone _by heart_. He’s trying to play it cool. He obviously doesn’t _need_ to, but it’s really endearing. “You could have called, you know?” he teases.

Sam looks intently right into Steve’s eyes and breathes out “I know. I wanted to see you.”

Bucky’s entire face turns red. Maybe if he prays hard enough, the earth will shatter and swallow him? This is even weirder than that one time he walked in on Steve and Stark. At least then it was socially acceptable to cover his eyes and run away screaming.

Steve collapses dramatically on Bucky when Sam leaves, his nose digging into Bucky’s shoulder. “Ugh,” he whines, voice muffled by the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, “I’m so _screwed._ ”

“Not yet,” Bucky giggles, and Steve bites him.

 

//

 

Nat slides her hands under Bucky’s shirt, and her skin is cold against his. She taps a finger rhythmically on his collarbone and presses a kiss to his nose, and Bucky takes a moment to laugh internally at all the people who thought she was too icy to be worth their time.

“They’re cute,” she says, her voice laced with affection, glancing over Bucky’s shoulder to where Sam and Steve are sitting.

“Mmhh,” Bucky agrees. They’re not cute, they’re _ridiculous_ , but he’s not going to say it out loud. They are _sharing an ice cream_. Anytime now the Fluff Police is going to break through the ceiling and arrest them.

This is a double date, he realizes. Oh god, they’ve made it. They’re _that kind_ of best friends.

“Scoot over, Rogers,” Bucky says before crashing on the bench next to Steve. Nat follows quickly, stretches like a cat and almost sends Steve on to the ground.

“You know what we should do?” Sam declares suddenly. “We should do something together this summer.”

“The four of us?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah,” Sam smiles. “Or you could bring Clint, I mean, it’s cool.”

“I like the idea of the four of us,” she says, wistful.

“We could go on a road trip,” Steve offers. “Maybe go to New York, show you guys where Buck and I grew up. ‘Could introduce you to my mom,” he tells Sam, like it’s no big deal.

There’s a faint blush coloring his cheeks, but Sam just beams at him and lists possible destinations. Bucky nudges Steve gently with his elbow and doesn’t say anything.

Things are going pretty darn well, if Bucky may say so himself.

 

 


End file.
